My four year old, (“almost five year old”) legs swung back and forth as I sat on the swaying cardboard table. I was covered in sticky sweets that were prepared by my mother.   My hot pink leotard with silver sequins, dazzled under a coating of sticky sweetness.  I had worn it so proudly almost a year ago in my first dance recital.   It was becoming tight but I thought that I was glamorous anyway.  The matching silver tiara was perched upon the top of my waist length deep brown locks that had been rolled into soft large curls.  My bangs were cut to frame my large green-blue eyes with long black eyelashes.

The cardboard table bake sale was part of our “carnival”.  The wild girls that ran with my sister and I in the prairies behind our subdivision were filled with as much imagination as I was.   About a week before, we had dreamed up hosting our own neighborhood “carnival”.  While our dreams were huge, funds are resources were limited.

We imagined a magical fair with a “Death Defying roller coaster”.  In reality, on this day it consisted of our friend, Nadine, running while pulling a wagon behind her as fast as she could up and down Mr. and Mrs. Goodyjohn’s driveway.  Nadine was quick and strong for a skinny but scrappy 7 year old girl.  She raced and weaved the wagon thrillingly.  Neighborhood kids lined up quickly for “The Whizzer”.

Kristi, a very pale, tall, and painfully thin 10 year old claimed to be clairvoyant.  She wrapped a small rubber ball in tin foil and put it on top of an upside fruit bowl.   Boys and girls, but mostly, girls waited and then were led one at a time into the dark garage where Kristi was hovering over the tin foil ball with a large scarf draped over her head.  She predicted their weddings, their children, and their deaths.

My sister, Angie, was in the yard helping the the other girls host games like “ring toss” and “throw the penny in the goldfish bowl”.   Prizes of dandelion crowns and hard cinnamon candy were given to those who won any of our “wide array” of arcade games.

To the parents helping us create and host our “carnival”, it must of looked quite different than it did to us.   We were sure the blown up balloons taped to the side of the garage, the smattering of left over birthday streamers blowing in the breeze, and the handmade signs marked the entrance of a magical party filled with delights.

My cookies and handmade caramels were priced for me.  It was my job to collect the money as the each customer approached and selected caramels or cookies.  I had no idea what coins to collect or how to make change for a dollar.  I smiled and took whatever coins were given to me and gave them random coins back if they handed me a dollar.  Tom’s melodic voice was now in my ears and got louder as he chatted in line with other parents.

The neighborhood had been taken in by the 20-something carefree neighborhood man who lived around the corner with his kind and soft-spoken wife.  His irreverent humor and swagger intrigued everyone.   They often watched him work on his corvette in the driveway listening to songs like “Hot Blooded”.   They did not have any children of their own, yet.   It was neighborhood gossip that they had been sadly trying for awhile with no luck.

It had become a Summer Saturday evening ritual, as the sun started to set, Tom would grab a lawn chair and meet my Dad with his lawn chair in hand, halfway between our driveways.  Beers were cracked open as my Dad’s laughter at Tom’s softly told dirty jokes rang out.  Cans would be strewn on the lawn the next day.  My sister and I would dutifully pick them up and occasionally check to see if a sip was left inside.

I was suddenly aware of just how covered I was in sugary sweetness and how full I was from eating half of the merchandise.  Tom was next in line behind two 8 year old boys giving me nickels for caramels.  As he got closer to my table and my legs became still.  The smile that dazzled each parent and child that bought a treat from me started to fade.  A shudder went down my spine as nausea kicked in.  The knowledge swept over me: “I had been bad.”

I was eating all the profits and charming everyone with my pretty costume and 4 year old sticky chubby face.  Tom’s slight smile under his 70’s mustache let me know that he knew too.  Larry stood just slightly behind and to the right of Tom.  They approached my sale of goods together.  Their muffled snickers competed with the sound of the coins that jingled in their hands.    Their eyes swept passed the handmade treats on the table and to me.  I, I was the treat on the table.

I attempted the same smile I gave to everyone else… and then heard Tom say “Look at her. Look what she wore to sell candy.”  My eyes darted down to my beautiful costume.  It was the costume of pristine beautiful princesses that dwelled in fairy tale castles, wasn’t it?   I watched their eyes travel around my slightly chubby body in the tight pink leotard.  Why did I feel naked?  What was that feeling coming over me? With my head now down, I felt my long brown hair stick to the sides of my face.  I was dirty.

“She knew what she was doing when she put on her fancy little costume and her little crown”.   I did????    I did….. I knew others would fawn over me.  I knew they would be charmed.  I knew they would buy what I sat next to.  I did know……  They had known something that I didn’t know myself until that moment.  I was “tricky” and gross with my sticky hands, my naked arms and legs, with the costume tightening around my middle.

Tom put two coins on the table an popped a caramel in his mouth.  He chewed it with his mouth open staring at me the whole time.   Fear pierced through my heart and I looked around for my Mom.  She was long gone….. back at our house.  I realized I could not get down from table by myself without getting hurt.  I was trapped in their stares.  Larry walked away with a chuckle, but Tom lingered for a moment longer.  A wide grin passed over his lips briefly, then finally, he turned and left humming a tune.